


Heroism

by Jothowrote



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, RQG 166, Spoilers for 166, casting spells and forehead touches are something that can actually be so personal, episode drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jothowrote/pseuds/Jothowrote
Summary: 'Hamid would like to cast a spell on Zolf, if he'll let him.'A little drabble exploration of the heroism spell at the end of RQG:166.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Zolf Smith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	Heroism

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the fact that when Bryn said the forehead touch was 'awkward', I immediately thought he meant because of their history and their current as yet undefined relationship (not in the romantic sense of relationship necessarily), whereas (probably correctly) Ben took it to mean 'Hamid small, Zolf big'. Also I am weak for forehead touches.

As Zolf turns to leave, Hamid’s hand lands gently on his forearm. Zolf allows himself to be led to one side, away from the rest of the crew, his curiosity peaked.

When they are suitably far away from everyone so as to be out of sight and mostly out of hearing, Hamid bites his lip and stammers at him.

‘Um, I’ve got a spell that might… might help?’

Zolf frowns. It isn’t what he was expecting. He isn't sure exactly what he _was_ expecting - a secret, maybe, imparted just before he goes out into danger? A confession? Some part of him feels a little disappointed for it to turn out so practical, but he knows he needs any help he can get.

‘What is it?’

‘H- Heroism?’ Hamid stutters. He never used to stutter so much when talking to Zolf, back when they were closer, before the world went to hell in a handbasket and Zolf believed Hamid to have died in the line of duty. It's like they've forgotten how to talk to each other, so scared of making an irrevocable mistake that they hardly try at all.

Zolf shrugs.

‘Right. I mean, it sounds ‘elpful.’

‘Well if, if, if that’s okay.’

Hamid speaks the spell, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly in comparison to his earlier stammered speech. Hamid rests a hand on Zolf’s right shoulder, and warmth emanates from the contact – Zolf can feel the magic rushing through his body, a rush of revitalising energy. Hamid does the same to his left shoulder, giving him that same rush. Zolf feels… excellent. He feels like he could take on one of the megafauna by himself. He feels like he could save the world.

He watches Hamid as the spell is cast. Hamid’s eyes are bright orange and his skin is brassy, his dragonish features more present while he casts. Zolf drinks him in, buoyed by the magic coursing through Hamid into him.

Hamid looks up at him with those burning orange eyes, frowning in concentration.

‘Would you…?’ Hamid tails off, but leans up towards Zolf, his hands gently tugging at Zolf’s shoulders to guide him down, the sharp dragon claws pricking sharply even through his thick winter clothes.

For a split second, Zolf thinks Hamid is going to kiss him. The thought sparks through him like lightning – a sensation he is now very familiar with – and he is frozen in sudden panic. 

Then Hamid tugs him down further, and their foreheads gently press together. Hamid says the spell again, and that same sensation of strength and vitality rushes through Zolf, a hundred times stronger than through his shoulders. It sparks through his head and tingles on his tongue, slips golden through his blood and bones, twitches his muscles and curls around his tendons. It feels like fire, but it doesn’t burn.

Though the initial rush fades, it still simmers under his skin as Hamid pulls away.

‘Sorry,’ Hamid says. His face is flushed and he is rubbing the back of his neck. The brassy tones of his skin are fading now, along with the magic. ‘That was a… a bit awkward.’

‘We’re not that far apart in height,’ Zolf says, still dazed from the rush of magic.

Hamid laughs, and it's a strange, croaky sound.

‘That’s… not what I meant.’

‘Oh.’ 

Zolf feels strangely bereft, even with Hamid’s magic in his veins. Hamid is avoiding his eyes.

‘Right. Well, I, uh, better go then,’ he says, jabbing his thumb at the door. Hamid says nothing, and Zolf turns to leave. 

A small, clawed hand grabs at his own.

‘Zolf.’ Hamid says. ‘Be careful.’

Zolf is overcome with strong déjà vu. It could have been two years ago, on the same airship, with him and Hamid below decks together. Hamid’s hands had been soft and smooth then, delicately manicured and so delicate compared to Zolf’s large, callused hands. Now Hamid’s hands are rougher than Zolf’s, scaled and strong, tipped with wickedly sharp claws. But they are still dwarfed by Zolf’s hands, and nostalgia of who they used to be rises up inside Zolf like an ocean swell. They’ve changed too much to go back to how they used to be. Their friendship is a fragile thing now. It needs to be carefully and delicately tended. 

Zolf is neither careful nor delicate, but he wants to try.

Zolf wishes, for a second, that Hamid had kissed him.

‘I’ll be careful,’ Zolf agrees, and Hamid lets him go.


End file.
